


Never Tickle a Sleeping Dragonlord

by ThreeOfWands



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Merlin (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Angst, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Hogwarts, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-09
Updated: 2014-08-15
Packaged: 2018-02-12 09:45:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2105049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThreeOfWands/pseuds/ThreeOfWands
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin Ambrosius and Arthur Pendragon grow up as best friends in a small wizarding village. They do absolutely everything together. From receiving their Hogwarts letters, playing pranks and quidditch, and getting into mishaps, to fighting Dark magic and saving the wizarding world from certain devastation. There’s jealousy, pettiness, and teenage angst, but also happiness, friendship, and just a bit of love too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Birthday Boy

Hunith opened the door to find little Arthur Pendragon standing on her front step, red-faced, streaked with dirt, and clutching his broomstick.

 

She noticed his conspicuous lack of companion and felt a tendril of worry begin to creep into her stomach. Her son was an incorrigible troublemaker; there was no knowing what kind of mess he’d gotten himself into this time.

 

“Arthur, is something wrong? Where’s Merlin?”

 

The boy kept his eyes fixed on his feet and shuffled around nervously, reluctant to be the bearer of bad news. “Um, hello Mrs. Ambrosius. Merlin may have gotten himself into a bit of an accident. But Lullah’s patching him up right now. She said I should come get you.”

 

Hunith sighed. Another ‘accident’. And she’d been hoping that Merlin had finally grown out of his clumsiness.

 

&

 

They took the floo network back to Pendragon Manor. Though Arthur only lived two houses down the street, it was a significant distance to walk when the ‘houses’ were really sprawling estates in a neighborhood like theirs.

 

Hunith and Arthur were deposited by the bright green flames in the stately dining room of Pendragon Manor. Arthur easily clambered out of the massive gilded fireplace and set off to find his best friend. The boy led Hunith down a familiar set of twists and turns through the labyrinth of corridors to his own room and marched inside.

 

Merlin sat on Arthur’s four-poster bed, playing with two foxhound puppies with one arm, as an old house elf tended to his other. Lullah turned when the door opened.

 

“Master Arthur and Mistress Hunith!” the elf squeaked. She bowed to both of them and the lacy cap she wore threatened to slide off of her head.

 

“Hi Lullah.”

 

Merlin looked up from playing tug-of-war with one of the puppies. “Mum!”

 

“Oh, Merlin.” She rushed over to his side. “Are you all right?”

 

“I’m fine, Mum,” Merlin mumbled, embarrassed. “It’s not that bad.”

 

There were three surprisingly deep gouges down the length of his pale, skinny arm. Lullah had cleaned the wounds up and was dabbing a foul smelling potion onto the edges of the skin, which smoked and hissed profusely on contact. Before their eyes, the lacerations shrank and partly closed. Satisfied, Lullah covered the entire thing with a bandage and pronounced Master Merlin finished.  Then she bowed again and disapparated with a loud _crack_.

 

Arthur sat down next to Merlin on the bed and picked up one of the pups. He reached out a curious hand. “Does it hurt?”

 

Merlin snatched his arm back. “ _Yes_.”

 

“Wimp. I just wanted to touch it.”

 

“Well you can’t,” Merlin said petulantly. “It hurts and its all your fault.”

 

“Is not!”

 

“Is too!”

 

Hunith quickly intervened. “Boys, enough. Now would one of you like to explain what happened here?”

 

Both of them ducked their heads and avoided eye contact.

 

“ _Merlin_ ,” she said sternly. “I’d like to know what happened to that arm.”

 

Merlin scowled and picked at the edge of his bandage. “Me and Arthur were on his quidditch field just playing and flying around and then Arthur wanted to play real quidditch and he wanted to be the chaser so he made me be the keeper and I didn’t want to because I hate playing keeper! I wanted to be the seeker because I’m good at that but Arthur wouldn’t let me and he said I was being dumb. And then when I was keeper he kept making fun of me so I pushed him off his broom and ran away. Then I went into the forest to hide and I didn’t want Arthur to find me so I tried to climb this tree but then one of those truckle things—“

 

“A bowtruckle?” Hunith supplied.

 

“Yeah! That. It came out and it was really mad and it kept making weird noises so I tried talking to it. But then it scratched me and it _really_ hurt so I hit it with my magic and I ran away all the way back here. Then Arthur found me and we went to Lullah, then Arthur went to get you and you know the rest.”

 

Hunith sighed deeply. “You need to learn to be more careful, Merlin. I worry about you.”

 

“I will, Mum. I’m sorry I worried you.” Merlin bowed his head, looking truly contrite for a moment. Then he snapped his head up and asked, “Mum, can we get a puppy?”

 

“What?”

 

“A puppy,” Merlin said eagerly. “Arthur got puppies for his birthday. See, Llamrei,” he pointed to the black pup in his lap, “and Hengroen.” He pointed to the russet one sleeping on Arthur.

 

Arthur had celebrated his birthday only a few days ago and had spent the past week in France as a gift from one of his uncles. He’d returned to England just that morning, in time for Merlin’s birthday in two days. Hunith hadn’t decided what to get her son yet, but there was no way she was getting a puppy. She wasn’t that stupid.

 

“I’ll think about it,” Hunith replied noncommittally. “Now say good bye to Arthur, it’s time to go home for dinner.”

 

“Bye, Arthur. See ya tomorrow!”

 

“Bye, Merlin!”

 

&&

 

“Happy birthday!”

 

Merlin felt the breath whoosh out of him as Arthur tackled him with a hug.

 

“It’s not my birthday until tomorrow,” Merlin protested.

 

“Don’t care.” Arthur shoved a brightly colored bag into his face.

 

It was heavier than expected and Merlin shook it, trying to guess what was inside. Whatever it was started moving around and hissing and Merlin nearly dropped it out of fright.

 

He looked to Arthur nervously as the gift emitted an ominous wisp of smoke. “What—?”

The other boy smirked. “Open it and find out.”

 

“Mum, can I—?”

 

Hunith smiled fondly at her son’s impatience. “Yes, you may open it.”

 

Merlin held the present gingerly by the corners. He tipped the bag on its side and out slipped a scaly green mass.

 

It was a model dragon, about the size of Merlin’s head and extremely life-like. The detail was exquisite, from the leathery wings to the little ridges marching down its spine, down to the last emerald colored scale. The dragon cocked its head and twitched its whip-like tail, observing its surroundings with intelligent eyes. It stalked forwards and poked its snout into Merlin’s chest and sniffed him inquisitively.

 

“Her name is Tourmaline,” Arthur informed him.

 

“She’s beautiful,” Merlin said dreamily, stroking Tourmaline’s head. The little dragon purred happily like a kitten and nudged her head closer.

 

Arthur reached a hand out to pet the dragon. “Do you like it? I saw it in the catalogues and I made Father get one.”

 

Merlin smiled dopily at him. “She’s perfect. I love it.”

 

He scooped up Tourmaline and placed her on his shoulder. The little dragon flapped her wings a few times to balance herself. She gripped the material of Merlin’s shirt with her little claws and shifted around, trying to settle in a comfortable position. With her tail curled around his neck like a necklace, Tourmaline draped herself over Merlin’s shoulders.

 

“You look like an idiot.”

 

Merlin ignored Arthur’s comment and marched into the living room where the party would be held later that day.

 

The room was filled with huge balloons that changed color every few seconds and miles of streamers that tied themselves into intricate knots. Upon entering, Merlin and Arthur were snowed on by the ceiling, which had been charmed to sporadically drop glitter and confetti onto the room’s occupants.

 

At the center of the birthday explosion was a long table laden with a variety of snacks and a wide array of Honeyduke’s candy. As the food fizzed and squeaked and wiggled, the two family house elves, Ezra and Edna, scampered around the table, setting up plates and cups. Merlin knew that the pair had spent the entire morning cheerfully creating a pastel yellow masterpiece of a cake that sang ‘Happy Birthday’ in a high nasally voice.

 

Tourmaline eyed the food with interest. She hopped off of Merlin’s shoulder to prowl around. Some of the sugar mice had escaped their bowl and the little dragon enthusiastically gave chase.

 

Arthur plopped himself down at one of the seats. “So who’s coming to this party?”

 

Merlin counted on his fingers. “You, me. Leon from down the street, Elena and Gilli from school. My cousin Will, you know him, the French one? He just finished his first year at Beauxbatons actually. Oh, and your sister.”

 

Arthur wrinkled his nose. “Gross, why’d you invite Morgana?”

 

“’Cause she’s nice to me,” Merlin said defensively.

 

“You just have a crush on her.”

 

Merlin blushed hotly. “Do not!”

 

“Ha! I knew it!” Arthur crowed.

 

“Well, I know you have a crush on her friend, Gwen,” Merlin shot back.

 

It was Arthur’s turn to blush. Before he could say anything in return, the doorbell rang. Merlin jumped up and ran to the door, excited to greet his first party guest.

 

&&

 

After a long day of running around, laughing and screaming, Merlin sprawled out on his bed, exhausted. All of his guests had gone home and only Arthur remained.

 

Merlin had opened his presents once his friends had left. Together, Merlin and Arthur broke in the new gobstones set and tried out some of the tricks from Zonko’s Joke Shop. Merlin had also received a funny-looking tawny owl as a gift from his parents. He named the grumpy bird ‘Archimedes’.

 

While Arthur played with Tourmaline, Merlin leafed through the book of magic that his Uncle Gaius had given him. He was fascinated by the detailed drawings of various transformations, charts describing the execution of different charms, and illustrations of the—often gruesome—results of an extensive array of curses. He paused to glance up, for about the hundredth time, to look at the clock.

 

Arthur noticed the direction of his gaze. “Eleven fifty-two. Only a few more minutes.”

 

Merlin squirmed and wiped his sweaty palms on the sheets. He was equally excited and scared, if the jitters in his stomach and his accelerated heart-rate were any indication.

 

Arthur turned his head to look at his best friend. “What are you so scared about?”

 

Merlin put the book aside and shifted to sit close to Arthur, leaning against the headboard with their shoulders brushing. He was quiet for a moment.

 

“What if it doesn’t come? What if I’m a squib, like Mum?”

 

Arthur rolled his eyes. “That’s ridiculous, Merlin. You’re not a squib,” he said with absolute certainty. “I’ve seen what you can do without a wand or lessons or anything. What did your Uncle Gaius say? That you’re the most powerful wizard he’s seen in a while and he _works at a school of magic_. He’s not just saying that ‘cause you’re related. You need to get it through your thick head that you’re gonna be the best wizard anyone’s ever known, whether you like it or not.”

 

That brought a smile to Merlin’s face. “Thanks.”

 

“You’re welcome. Now stop being a moron,” Arthur replied.

 

“What about you? Were you scared?”

 

“Oh, please.” Arthur waved a dismissive hand. “Of course I wasn’t. I’m not an absolute _girl_ like you, Merlin. I don’t get scared.”

 

Merlin snorted. “Yeah right.”

 

Merlin knew Arthur, and he knew Arthur’s father and the amount of pressure he placed on his son. There was no way that Arthur hadn’t been as terrified as he was now. Especially waiting for his letter in a foreign country with only his uncle for company. Somehow, the thought of Arthur being just as scared made him feel better.

 

Arthur scowled at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

“Nothing,” Merlin said unconvincingly. “Just, I remember you nearly wetting yourself that time we found a boggart in my attic. Or that time you broke your arm falling off your broomstick. You cried, didn’t you? Or how about when—“

 

“Shut up! No I wasn’t!”

 

“Mmhmm,” he replied in that infuriating way that he had. “What time is it now?”

 

“Eleven fifty-five.”

 

They were both silent for a moment.

 

“What if I was,” Merlin said all of a sudden. “A squib, I mean. Would we still be friends?”

 

“Duh.” Arthur made it sound like it was obvious.

 

“Even after you went to school and made a lot of cool magic friends without me?” Merlin persisted.

 

“ _Mer_ lin. We’re gonna be best friends forever. Even when you’re like fifty and you’re old and ugly and you have a long beard and you smell like old-person. We’ll be friends even then. Now stop asking me stupid questions.”

 

Merlin wished he had Arthur’s bravado and confidence.

 

“And stop being so depressing,” Arthur ordered. “You’re not a squib.”

 

“But how do you know?” Merlin whinged.

 

“’Cause last summer you accidentally turned all of Morgana’s dolls green ‘cause she was being mean and father couldn’t figure out how to fix it. And ‘cause you pushed Mr. Simmons’s stupid crup into the river so it would stop chasing us. Or every time you summon sweets out of the kitchen before dinner even though you’re not supposed to. And the way your eyes do that gold-y magic-y thing. Explain that, squib.”

 

Merlin contemplated all of that. Suddenly the tension melted from his shoulders. “Okay.” And then as an afterthought, “Thanks.”

 

They lapsed into silence again.

 

“Can I ask you something?”

 

Merlin shrugged. “Okay?”

 

“What did you wish for when you blew out your candles?” Arthur asked curiously.

 

“I can’t tell you that! If I tell you, it won’t come true.”

 

“Morgana says that’s a load of dragon dung. And I’m your best friend so you have to tell me,” Arthur argued.

 

Merlin turned his head away and was quiet. “I wished—I wished for my dad to come home tomorrow.”

“Oh.” Arthur suddenly felt guilty for pushing.

 

“Yeah.” Merlin shrugged. “It’s just. I haven’t seen him for a month and I was hoping—“

 

Arthur slung an arm around Merlin’s shoulders. “He’ll be here,” he said, adamant.

 

“Yeah?”

  
Arthur nodded resolutely. “Yeah. I’ll find him myself if he doesn’t. Where is he, anyways?”

 

“Tibet,” Merlin replied glumly. “Doing Unspeakable stuff for the Ministry as usual.”

 

“I’m sure he’ll be here,” Arthur repeated. “It’s not every day your bloody awesome kid turns eleven.”

 

That made Merlin smile. “I hope you’re right.”

 

As he said those words, the big clock down the hall began to chime. Merlin counted each reverberating peal.  _ten…eleven…twelve…_

 

Arthur crushed him in a bone-breaking hug. “Happy birthday, Merlin!”

 

Merlin ignored him, squirmed out of his embrace, and ran to the open window. He stood on his tiptoes with half his torso hanging outside, eyes glued to the empty night sky.

 

With each passing second, Merlin’s heart sank lower into his stomach. After two interminable minutes of bated breath and tightly crossed fingers, Merlin turned away, disappointment stinging in his eyes. He ducked his head to hide the tears that welled up. He’d thought for sure—

 

“Merlin, look!”

 

His head snapped up. There, in the distance, a misshapen pinprick appeared in the sky. Merlin’s heart rate picked up. He didn’t dare to hope…

 

As it drew closer, Merlin could clearly discern a pair of wings. It was definitely a bird of some kind. Yet he refused to get his hopes up. It could be headed to any house in Upper Flagley, after all. It wasn’t necessarily meant for him. No, there was no use in getting too excited.

 

After a full anxiety-ridden minute, the shape still hadn’t veered off course. It was heading straight for his house! Merlin forced himself to breathe. By now, the bird was near enough that he could make out individual feathers and hear every flap of its wings.

 

The anticipation was making him into a nervous ball of energy. Merlin couldn’t stop fidgeting; he jiggled his leg, drummed his fingers on the window sill, and shifted his weight. Arthur stood next to him and watched him warily, but for once didn’t have anything to say.

 

The owl was so close now that Merlin could see the its beady eyes and wicked talons as well as the letter tied to its leg. At this point it was unmistakable; the bird was headed straight for Merlin’s window. The two boys ducked out of the way as it swooped into the room with a loud screech.

 

From the instant the foreign owl entered the room, Archimedes started making a racket in his cage and Tourmaline hissed viciously from on top of the dresser. The owl squawked in fright, hopped right back out the window, and fled as quickly as possible, barely giving Merlin enough time to snatch the letter off its leg.

 

The enveloped was addressed:

 

To: MR. M. AMBROSIUS,

3, Ealdor Lane,

Upper Flagley,

YORKSHIRE

 

Merlin held it in both hands, just staring at the words.  Everything felt so surreal; he couldn’t believe this was really happening. Merlin turned the envelope over and touched the printed Hogwarts coat of arms reverently. Slowly, carefully, he pried open the wax seal and with shaking hands, slid the parchment out from inside.

 

_Dear Mr. Ambrosius,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31._

_Yours sincerely,_

Annis Caerleon

_Deputy Headmistress_

Merlin started at the letter, stunned. He had to read it over several times to grasp the meaning of the words on the page.

 

“I’m a wizard.” He told himself. “I’m going to Hogwarts.” It felt amazing to say those words out loud. He felt a heavy weight lift off his chest and released a bewildered laugh. “ _I’m really a wizard_.”

 

“Of course you are, you idiot.” Arthur laughed delightedly. “Looks like you’re stuck with me for the next seven years!”

 

Merlin grinned so widely that his face hurt. “Yeah,” he said breathlessly. “Yeah.”

 

Arthur hugged him again and this time Merlin returned the embrace. He couldn’t resist sing-songing into Merlin’s ear, “ _I told you so_.”

 

Merlin pushed Arthur away with another laugh. He was in such good spirits he couldn’t find it in himself to be annoyed. Who cared if his best friend was a smug prat? He was going to Hogwarts! Merlin jumped up. “I’ve got to tell Mum!”

 

He dashed out of the room with Arthur on his heels.

 

&

 

They told Merlin’s mum and his Uncle Gaius and his cousin Will and Aunt Siobhan and Ezra and Edna and anyone who would listen at close to 1 am. When the boys finally returned to Merlin’s room after spreading the good news, they both collapsed on the bed, exhausted. Merlin and Arthur crawled under the covers and promptly fell asleep.

 

 

 


	2. Diagon Alley

Arthur woke up, disoriented and overwhelmed by a confusing amount of noise. He opened his eyes to Merlin shouting at a growling Tourmaline, who was flying around chasing Archimedes, who was screeching in distress and knocking things off of shelves.

 

“Tourmaline, stop it! Archimedes! Will both of you calm down!” Merlin stood on his desk, uselessly waving his arms around.

 

Tourmaline launched herself from the hanging light fixture with a roar and succeeded in ripping out a few tail feathers. Archimedes shrieked in pain and careened into Merlin. Startled, Merlin yelped and flailed his arms, almost falling from the desk. He caught himself, but in the process, sent a few picture frames flying to the ground. The glass shattered and the people in the pictures began complaining loudly, adding to the cacophony.

 

The door burst open and a man rushed into the room with his hand out. “What’s going on here?”

 

“Dad!” Current predicament and wayward pets forgotten, Merlin leapt off the desk and ran to greet his father. “You’re here!”

 

Balinor embraced his son tightly. “Happy birthday, Merlin.”

 

Merlin buried his face in his father’s chest and mumbled into the fabric of his shirt, “I missed you.”

 

“I missed you too, son.” They held onto each other for a moment.

 

Merlin pulled back to look at his father. “I thought you weren’t coming home until next week.”

 

Balinor smiled. “I took the day off. It’s your eleventh birthday, it’s a special occasion. And I heard that a certain _someone_ got his Hogwarts letter this morning.”

 

Merlin’s face lit up. “Yeah! I’m a wizard, Dad! I’m going to Hogwarts, just like you!”

 

Balinor chuckled. “That’s my boy. I knew you had it in you. It’s a good thing too since I’m taking you and Arthur to Diagon Alley today.”

 

“All right!” Merlin beamed adoringly at his father.

 

Arthur felt like an intruder on his precious private moment shared between father and son. The two were close despite the fact that Balinor spent the majority of his time away on Ministry business. Merlin idolized his father and aspired to be exactly like him, even though he had no idea what Balinor actually did for a living.

 

It was times like these that Arthur was unspeakably jealous of Merlin’s family. He wished for a warm, loving mother like Hunith and a gruff, doting father like Balinor to fill the void in his life. His own mother was long dead, while his father was often absent, and distant even when he was home. The past year had been the worst, with Morgana off at Hogwarts and father busy at work, leaving Arthur alone in a big, empty house with only house elves for company.

 

Arthur found the solution to his problem by spending every waking hour with Merlin. When they weren’t at the primary school in town, they were at each others’ houses, fooling around until Hunith or Lullah came around to drag them home.

 

He found a surrogate family in the Ambrosiuses; Hunith coddled and scolded him like her own son, and Balinor, when he was home, often took Arthur and Merlin on outings like this one.

 

The three of them had traveled to Diagon Alley several times before, to shop for Christmas presents, purchase new robes, ogle racing brooms, or just to treat the boys to ice cream. It was impossible not to, especially when one lived in a tiny wizarding village with very few shops.

 

But when Arthur stepped out of the fireplace, the scene that met his eyes was entirely unlike the Diagon Alley he was used to. Merlin, who’d been a step behind him, stopped dead.

 

“ _What_ happened?”

 

The usually bustling street was almost deserted. The few people who were about didn’t linger and scurried nervously to their destination. Windows were shuttered and several shops weren’t open at all. It was eerily empty and silent. The only sound that Arthur could hear was that of rustling paper.

 

The sources of the noise were hundreds of posters affixed to every available surface as far as the eye could see, forming a bizarre sort of wallpaper. Every single one was emblazoned with the same image: a sinister-looking old witch, mat-haired, liver-spotted, and scowling fiercely at passerby.

 

Balinor was reading one of the papers intently, brows drawn together in consternation. He frowned. “The one day I miss the _Prophet_ , a madwoman breaks out.”

 

Curious, Arthur pulled a poster off the wall and studied it. Beneath the Ministry seal and the frightening photograph, it read:

 

_‘WANTED: MARY COLLINS_

_Mary Collins is a known practitioner of Dark Magic._

_Convicted murderer, fugitive of Azkaban._

_DANGEROUS, APPROACH WITH EXTREME CAUTION’_

 

Arthur looked away, unnerved by her appearance. “Who is that?”

 

“Mary Collins,” Balinor replied absentmindedly, still focused on the poster.

 

Merlin looked on over Arthur’s shoulder. “I’ve never heard of her.”

 

“You wouldn’t have.” Balinor finally tore his gaze away. “She and her son were sent to Azkaban for using Dark Magic when both of you were very young. They killed a lot of people before Uther caught them.”

 

Arthur’s head snapped up. “My father?”

 

“Aye.” Balinor wore an amused expression. “This was before he became Minister of Magic. Uther was still in auror back then.”

 

Arthur’s mouth dropped open in awe. He tried to picture his stern, conservative father chasing down bad-guys or dueling criminals, and couldn’t. It was such a strange idea. “Father never said anything.”

 

“It was a dark time,” Balinor explained gravely. “I doubt it’s something he wants to re-live. Mary Collins was always a mad, twisted woman. And she’s only become worse since her son died years ago.”

 

Merlin turned in a circle, considering the massive amount of posters and the deserted street. “She must be bad if people are this scared of her.”

 

“And now she’s at large, again,” Arthur concluded flatly.

 

“It would appear so. But you boys shouldn’t worry. You’re quite safe at Hogwarts with Professor Kilgharrah,” Balinor said reassuringly. “Speaking of which, we better get a move on if we don’t want to be here all day.”

 

“We’re staying?” Merlin asked hopefully.

 

Balinor shrugged. “I don’t see why not. It _is_ your birthday after all. And the queues will be short since no one’s around. Just stay close to me, boys, that’s it.”

 

First, they stopped at Gringotts so Balinor could withdraw some money. The goblins looked at them suspiciously, but said nothing. Balinor collected his pouch-full of golden galleons and Merlin and Arthur enjoyed themselves immensely on the wild ride to and from the family vault.

 

Next the boys were fitted for school robes. Then they picked up potions kits, cauldrons, vials, scales, telescopes, and textbooks. After each stop, Balinor sent their various bags and parcels back to their respective homes with a lazy flick of his wand.

 

They paused at the quidditch store to admire the new racing brooms, and again at the pet supplier’s, even though Merlin already had Archimedes and Arthur had his own owl Cabal, just so they could stare at the strange creatures that were sold there.

 

“Come now, boys. We still need to get your wands,” Balinor called.

 

“Wands?!” Arthur and Merlin immediately peeled their faces away from the purple bubble-blowing ermine. They ran for the door and shoved at each other to get outside first.

 

Balinor led the two boys, who were bouncing with excitement, into Ollivander’s. Arthur and Merlin gaped with undisguised wonder at the sheer multitude of wands.

 

Arthur couldn’t believe he was finally getting a wand. He’d been waiting for the moment _forever._ And even more since Morgana got hers and made a habit of twirling it around and bringing it everywhere and otherwise rubbing it in his face that she could do magic and he couldn’t. He’d show her. Magic didn’t look that hard; just waving a wand and shouting some gibberish. Arthur was determined to be way better at magic than Morgana was.

 

“Welcome, welcome! How are we doing today?” An energetic young man hurried out from the back room. He ran a quick hand through his hair, dislodging wood shavings from the auburn curls. “My name is Garvin Ollivander. What can I help you with today?”

 

“I’m looking for wands for these two.” Balinor nudged Arthur and Merlin forward.

 

Garvin smiled at them, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Absolutely. Who wants to go first?”

 

Suddenly shy, Merlin looked to Arthur, who shrugged and said, “I guess I am.”

 

Garvin studied him with a critical eye. “Hm. Let’s try fir and…” He moved down the shelves, pulling out different boxes. “…unicorn hair? Possible. We’ll try the other cores too. Could be an aspen. Ash could work. Not too springy.”

 

He returned with several boxes. They all looked identical to Arthur but Garvin seemed to be able to differentiate between them. The young wandmaker selected a box and offered the wand to Arthur.

 

“Ash and unicorn hair, 10 ½ inches, fairly rigid,” Garvin pronounced.

 

Arthur eagerly took the wand and gave it a wave. Nothing happened. He tried it again, more vigorously.

 

Garvin quickly took the wand back. “No, no. That’s not it. Definitely not the ash. Fir perhaps?”

 

He handed Arthur another wand. “Fir and dragon heartstring, 13 inches, unyielding.”

 

Arthur swished it confidently through the air and the wand emitted a few weak sparks. He glanced at Garvin hopefully but the man was shaking his head.

 

“The connection is too tentative.” Garvin let Arthur try a few more fir wands before moving onto aspen. Again, the wand reacted feebly, releasing a small puff of smoke. But it clearly wasn’t convincing enough for Garvin, who took the wand back. “Maybe we shouldn’t focus so much on strong-minded,” he muttered to himself. “Are you loyal or wise by chance? No, I’m sensing more courageous and honorable—”

 

He hastened to the back of the shop and returned with a single box, which he passed to Arthur. “I’ve got it! This should be the one. Cypress and unicorn hair, 12 inches, reasonably pliant.”

 

It was golden brown in color and simple but elegant in form. Arthur held the wand gently in his palm and the heft of it felt _right_. He gave it a wave. The reaction was immediate. A surge of warmth raced through his hand, up the length of his right arm, and blossomed in his chest, spreading through his body and filling him with a pleasant sensation down to the tingling in his toes.  From the wand itself, burst a beam of golden light, which bathed the room in an unearthly glow for a few seconds before it faded.

 

Garvin clapped his hands. “The wand has chosen! Excellent.”

 

Arthur grinned at the stick of wood that he clasped in his hand. He’d found his wand!

 

“Now you know the rules. No magic until you get to school.” Garvin took the wand out of Arthur’s reluctant fingers and returned it to the box. He turned to Merlin. “And now for you.”

 

Merlin squirmed under Garvin’s scrutiny. The young man eyed him thoughtfully then disappeared among the shelves. He emerged with an armful of boxes.

 

“You, my friend, are harder to read. I’m not so sure which direction to take.” Garvin extracted a wand from one of the boxes. “Try this one.”

 

Merlin took the proffered wand gingerly and gave it an experimental wiggle. He held his breath, but there was no response. Garvin quickly snatched it back and replaced it with another. Merlin gave the new wand a wave, and still nothing.

 

He was given several more wands to try out: they ranged from long to short and dark to light. Some were carved with intricate grooves and swirls, while others were relatively plain and smooth.  And each and every one that Merlin tried produced absolutely no affect, no sparks or beams or smoke or noises.

 

He felt frustrated and more than a little bit foolish, brandishing a chopstick and hoping for magic to come out. At least Arthur’s attempts had garnered some kind of reaction. His fear of being a squib was beginning to creep back in. Garvin, however, seemed unperturbed by the lack of results and cheerfully returned to the shelves to reappear with more wands to try. They went through nearly thirty wands and Merlin was rejected by every single one.

 

Garvin frowned. “That’s a ‘no’ to vine, pear, rowan, cedar, _and_ applewood. Could you be cypress like your friend?”

 

The young man brought out a selection of cypress wands. Merlin gave each of them a flourish, and a few yielded a smattering of weak sparks.

 

Garvin scowled. “What am I doing wrong? It shouldn’t be— Hold on for a sec.”

 

He vanished through a door in the side of the shop. Merlin fidgeted, discouraged by the mountain of discarded wands that surrounded him.

 

Garvin returned with two men, one young and one older. The younger one was blonde haired, bookish, and bore a striking resemblance to Garvin. He was introduced as Garmond, his older brother. The other man was Gareth Ollivander, the young men’s father and owner of the shop.

 

“If it isn’t Lord Balinor Ambrosius,” Gareth declared. “I haven’t seen you in ages. 11 inches, moderately rigid, chestnut and phoenix feather?”

 

“Correct as always, Mr. Ollivander,” Balinor replied with an amiable chuckle. He reached over to shake the man’s hand.

 

“What can I help you with, Bal?”

 

Balinor laid his hand on Merlin’s shoulder. “My son, Merlin, is looking for a wand.”

 

“Son? Has it been so long already? I thought it was just yesterday, you were coming in for your own wand.” Gareth shook his head. “Let’s see you, lad. Shall we try hawthorn?”

 

With a swish of his own wand, Gareth summoned a box and presented its contents to Merlin. “14 inches, rather springy, hawthorn and dragon heartstring.”

 

Balinor shouted, “Not the dragon—“

 

But it was too late. Merlin had waved the wand in his hand. As he moved it through the air, the wood grew scorching hot to the touch and began to tremble violently. Just as Merlin dropped it with a cry, the wand flared with an intense white light and exploded forcefully.

 

Everyone turned away, arms coming up to shield their faces from the flying splinters. Arthur shut his eyes, braced for the inevitable pain. He waited a second, two, but it never came. Slowly, he lowered his hands and gawked at the tableau before him.

 

Merlin had thrown his hand up, palm facing out. His eyes blazed an otherworldly gold, illuminating his face and making him appear inhuman in that moment. Suspended in the air, inches away from each of their faces, were the little shards of wood, frozen in place and halted in their trajectory. It looked like a real-life muggle picture.

 

Everyone blinked, in varying degrees of shock. Accustomed to his son’s magical outbursts, Balinor was not surprised in the slightest. He had the prudence to vanish the slivers of wood before something worse happened. On the other hand, Gareth wore a look of mild astonishment, while Garvin and Garmond both gaped with open-mouthed wonder.

 

Arthur stared at his best friend in amazement. He was impressed, not by the display of wandless magic, but by the increase in power and control that Merlin demonstrated. The last time that he’d witnessed Merlin’s magic, it still mostly resembled a child’s instinctive magic, made more powerful by Merlin’s heightened emotions. But now it was becoming increasingly obvious that Merlin’s magic was something else all together. Arthur cheered, “That was awesome!”

 

“Yeah, that was amazing,” Garmond praised, pushing his glasses up his thin nose. “How did you do that?”

 

“Dunno.” Merlin shrugged sheepishly and ducked his head, trying to hide the fading gold in his irises and the blush on his cheeks. He wasn’t used to being the center of attention.

 

“Why did the wand explode like that?” Arthur asked, diverting all eyes to him.

 

Balinor sighed. “It’s my fault, I should have said something earlier. Merlin’s magic has an aversion to dragon heartstring. It runs in the family.”

 

“Ah. How did I forget?” Gareth shook his head ruefully. “You burnt the skin right off your hand when you tried a dragon heartstring wand. Gave me quite a scare.”

 

Garmond was nodding in understanding. “It’s no wonder the wand shattered. The hereditary disinclination was amplified the strength of the young man’s magic. The wand didn’t stand a chance.”

 

Gareth rubbed his graying, bristly beard and regarded Merlin with a shrewd eye. “You’re a powerful one. What you did, I’ve never seen anything quite like it. No, you wouldn’t work with a regular wand. Let’s try you with our more uncommon models then.”

 

With a snap of his wand, several boxes came zooming through the air.

 

“14 ½ inches, whippy, acacia and unicorn hair.”

 

Merlin gave it a swish and the wand belched out a foul smelling cloud. Gareth cleared the air with a twitch of his hand and offered Merlin another one.

 

“10 inches, bouncy, hawthorn and phoenix feather.”

 

The wand produced a loud, rude noise.

 

“13 ½ inches, unbending, elder and phoenix feather.”

 

A black scorch mark was singed into the ceiling.

 

“12 inches, flexible, yew and unicorn hair.”

 

Merlin was thrown backwards by a sudden blast of air.

 

Not to be deterred, Gareth produced yet another wand for Merlin to try, which he took reluctantly. He was sick of flapping his arm around and despaired of ever finding a wand.

 

“12 ½ inches, relatively springy, English oak and phoenix feather.”

 

Merlin gave it an unenthusiastic wave. Abruptly, a phantom wind picked up, ruffling Merlin’s hair and stirring up loose papers.

 

Arthur felt the strangest sensation dance over his skin. The hairs on his arms stood straight up and a chill ran down his spine. Distantly, he could hear a sound, a long, pure note that echoed in his mind and elicited involuntary shivers. It was hauntingly beautiful and unearthly in a way that was impossible to describe. The sound crescendoed to the point that Arthur could feel it physically pressing in on his eardrums. Then, as suddenly as it came, it faded away to nothing. Arthur was left with a ringing in his ears and a haze in his mind. Despite his valiant efforts to cling to the memory, he could not recall what the chord sounded like, no matter how hard he tried.

 

“That was extraordinary!” Gareth exclaimed, giddy with excitement. Everyone else stared at him blankly, still dumbfounded. “Mr. Ambrosius, you must let me know how that wand works for you. I’m sure you’ll accomplish incredible things with it. Absolutely fascinating!”

 

Merlin appeared wary of the man’s eagerness, but mumbled his assent. From a few feet away, Arthur could feel the restlessness rolling of Merlin in waves.

 

He seized Merlin’s wrist and began to drag him away. He called over his shoulder, “We’re gonna wait outside. Thanks for the wands, Mr. Ollivanders.”

 

“Yes, thank you!” Merlin chimed in.

 

Balinor must have noticed his son’s agitation, because he didn’t stop the boys on their way out. “Don’t stray too far.”

 

Once they were safely outside the shop, Merlin sighed a breath of relief. Arthur could see the edginess leave the tense line of his skinny shoulders. They sat down on the ground in front of Ollivander’s.

 

“I thought I was gonna suffocate in there,” Merlin confided.

 

Arthur glowered. “He was looking at you like you were some sort of zoo exhibit!”

 

“He didn’t mean it,” Merlin spoke up in his defense. “And what happened _was_ pretty cool.”

 

Arthur scoffed, “You’re too nice. What would you do without me to look out for you?”

 

“I’m not—“

 

Merlin’s words died on his lips. Arthur turned to look at him quizzically and found a fearful expression on his friend’s ashen face. He opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, when he felt it too.

 

Arthur was suddenly overwhelmed by a dark wave of hopelessness. He was paralyzed by the icy grip of dread and drowning in an endless sea of anguish. Arthur felt empty, hollowed out by a bone-deep sense of loneliness. But at the same time, he was being crushed by an enormous leaden weight, a weight that would smother him so deep into the ground that the world would cease to remember that he’d ever existed at all. He was sinking deeper into a bottomless pit and with each breath, the light became more and more like a distant memory.

 

There was a shout, and then the darkness was thrown off like a thick shroud. Arthur hadn’t even realized how cold he was until the warmth flooded back into him. Beside him, Merlin took a gasping, shuddering breath.

 

Arthur looked up through hazy eyes and thought he saw a great silvery wolf standing over the two of them. The creature radiated an aura of joy and hope and Arthur instinctively felt safe in its inexplicably familiar presence. Distantly, he heard a man’s voice and was vaguely aware of a hand on his shoulder. He felt strangely detached from his senses, like he was drifting on a lofty cloud. The last thing Arthur remembered was a nauseatingly claustrophobic, constricting sensation, like his entire body was being squeezed into a paste by tight iron bands, before his vision dimmed to black.

 

&&

 

When Merlin woke up, he was groggy and confused. He had no idea how he’d ended up in his bedroom and wasn’t sure whether the garbled images in his head were dream or memory. Some of it was nightmarish enough that he hoped it wasn’t real.

 

Merlin rolled over in his bed and was met with the sight of Arthur, squatting by the door with his ear pressed to the wood and munching on an enormous slab of chocolate. Pacing next to him was the enormous translucent wolf that Merlin had thought he’d imagined.

 

“What’s th—“

 

“Shhh!!” Arthur whipped around and glared at him.

 

Merlin untangled himself from the sheets and silently approached his best friend. Keeping his voice at a whisper, he asked, “Where did the wolf come from?”

 

Arthur shot him a look of disbelief. “That’s your dad’s Patronus, you idiot.”

 

“ _Oh_.” Merlin had heard about them, but he’d never seen a true Patronus before. He turned so he could examine the wolf more closely.

 

As if it had sensed Merlin’s attention, the wolf gazed inquisitively back at him and padded closer. It was a ghostly silvery-white and glowed bright enough to light up the dark room. Standing at a meter high and built of solid muscle, the wolf was a powerful creature and Merlin was comforted to have it as his protector. Just by being near the Patronus, Merlin’s heart grew exponentially lighter and his spirits rose to new heights. And even though he’d never encountered it before, Merlin felt a strong affinity for the wolf; it had some sort of essence that was distinctly Balinor. He didn’t know how he’d missed it before.

 

Merlin goggled at Arthur with wide eyes. “So, what we saw, that thing was a—a dementor?”

 

Arthur nodded solemnly. He shoved a handful of Chocolate Frogs at Merlin. “You’re supposed to eat chocolate when you see a dementor so you don’t turn into a ghost.”

 

Merlin hastily unwrapped a frog and crammed the entire thing into his mouth. He chewed quickly and reached out for another one. Through a mouthful of chocolate, Merlin asked, “So what are you listening to?”

 

Arthur brought a finger to his lips and glued his ear back to the door. Intrigued, Merlin did the same.

 

It wasn’t hard to discern. There were two male voices arguing loudly from the floor below. Every so often a female would chime in, and Merlin recognized it as the imploring voice of his mother. Of the two men, one was clearly his father, and the other, he swiftly identified as Uther Pendragon, Arthur’s father and the Minister of Magic.

 

“How could you be so irresponsible! What kind of fool leaves two young boys unattended in Diagon Alley?” Uther was shouting.

 

“They were not _unattended_ ,” Balinor snapped defensively. “I left them for a minute!”

 

“I entrusted my son’s care to you and you nearly got the boy killed!”

 

“ _Me_? How was _I_ to know that _you_ released a dementor in Diagon Alley? I didn’t ask to be attacked and it’s _your_ fault it was there in the first place, _Mr. Minister_.”

 

“Not that you would know the first thing about responsibility, but it is my duty to ensure the safety of the entire wizarding community as a whole,” Uther informed him, haughtily. “Perhaps you haven’t heard, but there is a murderous sorceress at large.”

 

Balinor scoffed. “What, and did you expect to catch Mary Collins while she strolled down Diagon Alley, shopping for a new hat? And even if she was, did you really think you could stop her with a single dementor?”

 

“You forget that users of dark magic cannot produce corporal Patronuses—“

 

“Oh please, the woman lived with hundreds of dementors for the past ten years. I’m sure she knows how to communicate with the damn things by now. After all, she did manage to escape from your ‘most secure prison on the planet’.”

 

“I can hardly stand by and do nothing. It was a precaution, something to reassure the people.”

 

“It was stupid! What if it ran into someone who couldn’t produce a Patronus? Innocent people could have been killed!”

 

Uther made a noise of outrage. “Don’t you dare presume to tell me how to do my job! Why you—“

 

“Balinor! Uther! That’s quite enough! You’ll wake the boys.” Hunith cut in sharply. She hadn’t raised her voice, but she was using that ‘Mum’ tone and Merlin knew never to cross her when she sounded like that. “Look at you two, squabbling like children and pointing fingers. It was an accident. It was no one’s fault. What’s important is that the boys are safe and no one was hurt.”

 

There was a beat of silence. Balinor and Uther glared at each other, both breathing hard.

 

“You’re right, of course, Hunith,” Uther said stiffly. “I apologize to both of you. I’ll just collect Arthur and I’ll be right out.”

 

Merlin clutched at Arthur in alarm. “They’re coming!”

 

The two boys scampered across the room and dove into Merlin’s bed. Arthur hauled the covers over both of them and they slumped bonelessly, feigning sleep. Merlin tried to keep his face relaxed and only flinched a little when the lights turned on and someone came in.

 

“Hmm, I wonder who ate all this candy by the door,”Hunith said loudly. “It couldn’t have been Arthur or Merlin because they’re obviously sound asleep.” She waited for a moment. “Give it up, boys. I know you’re awake.”

 

Merlin peeked out from behind the blanket. “Hi, mum.”

 

“Hello darling, how are you feeling?” She brushed the hair from his forehead.

 

“I’m okay.”

 

“That’s good. And you, Arthur dear?”

 

Arthur opened his eyes, giving up the pretense. “I’m fine, Mrs. Ambrosius.”

 

“Wonderful. Now, I’m sure both of you heard every word that was said downstairs. Arthur, you’ll need to get your things together. Your father’s taking you home.”

 

Arthur slunk out of bed and went to gather his possessions.  When he was packed, they all went downstairs, where Balinor and Uther were standing on opposite sides of the living room, coldly ignoring each other. Both men looked relieved when the others entered.

 

“Arthur.” Uther strode over to his son. He didn’t say anything else, only rested his hands heavily on Arthur’s shoulders.

 

Uther turned to leave, but Arthur ducked out of his grip. He ran over to Merlin and threw his arms around his friend. “Bye, Merlin. Happy birthday again.”

 

“Bye, Arthur. I hope you don’t get into trouble,” Merlin said worriedly.

 

“Nah, I’ll be fine. Bye, Mr. and Mrs. Ambrosius.Thanks for everything.”

 

Hunith smiled at him. “It’s been lovely having you here. Come back whenever you like.”

 

Arthur returned to his father’s side and Uther took his son’s hand. Without a word, he brusquely marched into the fireplace, dragging Arthur behind him. And with a flare of green, they were gone.


End file.
